


Sports Anime Shorts 2015

by risquetendencies



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, 弱虫ペダル | Yowamushi Pedal
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4408910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fics/drabbles from Kuroko no Basuke & Yowamushi Pedal. Various characters, pairings, and ratings. Enjoy!</p><p>CH 7 - HayaMiya (NSFW)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TouMaki

Trying to catch a peek without being noticed was a difficult battle when his opponent was Toudou. It was as if his lover possessed some innate radar that tipped him off when people were looking at him. As soon as Yuusuke would think he’d done a good job of being secretive, a delighted grin would flash his way, the other soon launching into a monologue about how he understood how hard it was  _not_  to look at himself. If at all possible, he was hoping to spare himself that speech today.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t Jinpachi’s confidence that rubbed him the wrong way, it was only his effusiveness in showing it. Truthfully, Yuusuke admired that trait - it was one he had no chance of emulating in his lifetime. At times he wished that the raven would settle for a quieter affirmation of his beauty, but then again, he wouldn’t be the self-proclaimed Mountain God if he did. Like it or not, that was Toudou, and he liked it more than he hated it, if he had to choose.

Diverting his gaze for the nth time that hour, sky-blue irises noted the sloping curve of Jinpachi’s shoulder, bare under the summer sun and bright with the beginnings of a tan. As the other boy turned a page of his magazine, the muscles briefly tensed, his arm shifting to perform the simple motion. Yuusuke’s stare never wavered, strangely transfixed with an area he’d never given all that much thought to.

Before, it had always been lean, taut thighs, or the way that Jinpachi’s hair curled down in soft waves to frame his face when they were alone that haunted his thoughts. Perhaps it was about time that he had a new sight to add to the mental catalog of his boyfriend’s better angles.

Unconsciously extending a hand, Yuusuke stopped just short of brushing the flawless skin. Odd enough, he felt he could sense the warmth rolling off it, hitting his fingertips mere millimeters away. Grimacing at his weakness, he inwardly sighed, ready to retract his digits and forget about the idea entirely. They were more or less in private, but it was still the middle of the day. Several hours too early for his libido to be getting out of hand. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t get to touch later on, if the record they’d been maintaining over break continued.

Just then his hand was encased in the same heat, Jinpachi reaching across his chest to clasp at his fingers.

“Maki-chan?” he questioned in his gentlest tone, uncharacteristically using fewer words to greater effect.

“Sorry,” Yuusuke apologized at once, the response grating on his tongue. “There was, ah, something there. …Like a bug. But it… moved.”

“That sounds perfectly awful if it’s true!” the raven proclaimed, the lilt of his voice all but telling Yuusuke he’d been found out. “Maki-chan should make sure it won’t happen again!”

Makishima sighed outwardly that time. “And how am I supposed to do that? If a bug wants a place to rest, they’ll do it wherever they please.”

Toudou rapidly scooted closer, nudging the top of his head up under the other male’s outstretched arm.

Before Yuusuke could blink, he was spooned against his side, adjusted into his lanky frame so there wasn’t a wink of space left between them. This way, his arm was draped around his lover’s shoulder, and it was in that moment that he realized he’d been tricked. Sure, the aforementioned bug couldn’t lay claim to Jinpachi if what skin there had been to land on before was now covered, but they both knew full well there wasn’t a bug to fret about in the first place.

Sulking in the recesses of his mind, the sensation of lips pressed against the crook of where his arm met his shoulder jolted Yuusuke back into reality. He stared blankly down at where Jinpachi had kissed him, noting his mouth still twisted up in a smile. Though he’d moved away, the feeling lingered in his flesh, the fleeting touch convicting him more than he could’ve imagined.

“You’re going to make my arm fall asleep,” he stated matter of factly, trying desperately to quell his now racing pulse.

“It’s all right,” Toudou gusted out, looking more pleased with himself than any one person had a right to be. “I’m worth it.”

Rolling his eyes, Yuusuke turned his gaze back to the book he’d been perusing earlier, wondering if there was any hope of managing to continue one-handed.

The prospects weren’t looking good.


	2. MoriZuki - NSFW

Moriyama’s body is tense, taut with fierceness and he feels like if he pushes him even a little bit, that energy will snap.

Leaning back heavily on his elbows, Shun takes stock. Every fiber of him is enamored with the way his boyfriend feels pressed up against him, the hard line of his arousal jutting against the softness of his inner thigh, hot and smooth. Only the logical corner of his brain protests, raising concerns about them getting caught.

It’s training camp, and lights out was almost an hour ago. Moriyama had crept around the back of the inn to the window of the room he was sharing with a few of his teammates, coaxing him out with sweet words. Something about the moonlight being romantic, or maybe it was the starry sky – Shun hadn’t really paid too much attention to that. Yoshitaka was an enthusiastic sort of guy, and he hadn’t minded going, excuses or not.

What he hadn’t planned on was the mood that developed when they settled into an empty outbuilding on the grounds, slowly undressing each other in between their lips meeting. Moriyama’s touches were firmer than the usual, his lover grabbing him by the sides and hefting him onto the edge of a table, immediately filling the space between his legs. Of the handful of times they’d done this, he was used to Yoshitaka’s cautiousness, the lilt of his voice as he confirmed that the pleasure in their coupling was not only his own.

Shun doesn’t have the slightest clue what’s gotten into him tonight, but he’s more than happy to let things transpire as they will. Trust is implicit between them.

A gasp escapes the tight seal of his lips as a finger dips into a part of him that’s even narrower. It’s quick, much quicker than he’s used to, but Shun feels his pulse racing lightning-fast and concludes that slow wouldn’t fit the theme here. Moriyama’s breath is hot as it gusts against his bare shoulder, growing heavier with each digit he sinks inside, twisting and pulling him apart. 

Teeth rake fleetingly against his clavicle, hard meeting hard before his lover ducks down to soothe the ache with his tongue. Shun can do nothing but try to cope with the varied, ragged sensations, finally wrapping one leg around Yoshitaka’s middle, foot digging into the small of his back. It’s his hope that it’ll spur him along, and that hope is soon rewarded.

His other leg is bent back against his chest, his body now resting fully on the table’s sturdy surface as he’s pierced through. Moriyama’s ardor fills him to the brim, hips eagerly snapping forward before easing back, a frantic rhythm generating. 

Panting openly, Shun courses up to meet each thrust, the heat rising to his face and overwhelming his frazzled mind more. It’s all very new, but he thinks that if this is the way that it feels for his boyfriend to be impatient, then he really wouldn’t mind that now and again.

A jolt of electricity surges through his entire body as climax slams into him full force, his eyes part, and catch a glimpse of Yoshitaka’s labored expression. Giving himself over to the sensation, Shun finds a smile settling onto his lips.

Definitely, he could get used to this.


	3. ShinIzu

“Does it hurt?”

Glancing down at the abrasion scuffing up his knee, he surveyed it, musing it did sting, although it looked worse than it felt. 

“A little,” Izumida answered diplomatically, before returning to digging through his things for the bandage he knew was stowed away somewhere within. He’d rather cover it then let it keep being exposed to the air so it stayed cleaner, and healed faster.

“If it’ll help, I can buy you ice cream." 

"I’m hardly five years old anymore, so no, I don’t think that’s going to cut it unfortunately.”

“What about a kiss to make it all better?” Hayato inquired innocently, expression contradicting the twinkle in his eyes.

For a moment, he stared blankly in response before the tease set in. When the other shoe dropped, heat flooded Izumida’s face, morphing it into an outraged shade of magenta. Even so, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t make his heart race.

“Now you’ve got some color back, that’s good! Maybe I won’t have to do anything at all….”

“With all due respect,” Touichirou began, grappling with his embarassment to find the proper words, “You can’t just  _say_  things like that, Shinkai-san.”

“Even if I’m serious?”

Well, if he’d ever doubted it before, that one statement made it official. One of these days, his boyfriend was going to end him with some of the lines he effortlessly pulled out of nowhere. Judging by how loudly his pulse was dancing, that day might come before too long. Countermeasures needed to be drawn up, immediately, or the only suitable solution would be to give up and start drafting his will. He’d probably end up gifting most of it to Yuki, but he’d definitely have to find a more attentive home for his plants.

“I-If that’s the case, then I’d much rather you not say t-hat but do it if you’re set on doing it,” Touichirou stated, flustered beyond belief. It didn’t help how intently he was being stared back at while he spoke. He’d always found his lover’s eyes beautiful, as well as his smile, but when they were so close, and used against him, it was overwhelming.

The sensation only increased when fingers lightly cupped his chin, urging him forward until their lips collided. He could practically hear the beats resounding in his ears at first, but slowly and steadily, he grew more and more distracted by the silken firmness of Hayato’s mouth moving against his. Once, twice, then he pulled back, cerulean gaze linking with Izumida’s darker set before he broke into another crooked smile.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he promised in an amused tone, shifting one hand to caress Touichirou’s shoulder comfortingly. “Though it is pretty cute.”

“Impossible." 

The word slipped free before the haze in his mind cleared, but ultimately it was the truth. He doubted there would ever come a day when their intimacy wouldn’t thrill him. It was something he was resigned to live with as it probably wasn’t anything he could avoid, either.

"Well, how is your knee now?" 

Changing the subject tactfully was one of Shinkai’s better points. He seemed to know when not to push something too far, a trait Izumida couldn’t claim to mirror.

”…Cured. But maybe ice cream doesn’t sound so bad after all.“

The older boy’s eyes gleamed again at the prospect. “Excellent!”


	4. AkaFuri (2x)

_I: Effortlessly_

**A/N:** Prompt -  **Mamihlapinatapei** \- "The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move."

* * *

It would be easier than breathing, Furihata thinks.

Edging forward and putting the murmurs in his chest to bed by finally making it plain how he feels. As the situation stands, breathing is more challenging than it ever has been, the tendrils already squeezing his heart like a vice creeping out and up to begrudge him air as well as clarity. He is never going to recover either unless he acts. Whether that’s to succumb to his impulses or enacting an escape remains to be seen.

His eyes flutter closed then open again before he feels them zoning in on the bow of Seijuro’s lips, which are primly closed in the moment. 

A thousand times he’s wanted to feel them, but strangely, that’s not where his desires lay now. He wants to hear them instead, moving to tell him something that’ll make him feel like he isn’t the only one caught up here. Deep down inside, he knows he’s not, which is why the feeling of hesitation that stops him is endlessly frustrating. 

Being trapped in a cramped closet by friends who were fed up with waiting too doesn’t exactly help.

 

* * *

  _II: I Am Nothing, You Are Everything_

 **A/N:** Prompt -  **Ayurnamat** \- "The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed."

* * *

Life flows on whether one wills it to or not. You can expend your energy trying this or that to bend it to the path you want it to traverse, but it will continue on despite the intervention. As it always has, and always will.

That is a truth Seijuro has consistently found difficult to accept. For him, life has been almost disproportionately unkind for how little a time he has spent alive. 

Each new stumbling block has only magnified his need to shape his own destiny, to see outcomes before they happen and prepare, or sabotage as the case may be. He hates feeling adrift in the swirl of eternity’s surf, as if he has no influence, no choice. What indeed is the point in living if a person’s only option is to mindlessly bear what comes their way?

‘ _Well it’s not so much that we have no choice, but more that you’re only going to make yourself feel worse worrying about things you can’t do anything about…._ ’ 

His fingers press deeper into the slope of his forehead at the memory, tired eyes twitching behind closed lids. The malaise surrounding him shakes loose to a miniscule degree, and he allows himself to hear more of their last conversation.

‘ _Really, Sei, you’re exaggerating here. Obviously if you decide not to go down a certain street, you’re never going to go into the shop on that street. There are some things that will happen just because, but you still have to keep going and make your own decisions. They do make a difference!_ ’

Kouki had sighed in exasperation then, and without him saying the words, Seijuro had known what was on his lover’s mind. That there was no way anything he came up with was going to sound wise enough to soothe him. 

’ _Beating yourself up when something goes wrong probably makes it worse than whatever is happening ever could be. How many times has something bad happened but then a year later, you can laugh about it? Try to think that way, and give yourself a break._ ’

Joints creak as he slowly elevates himself from his desk. Purpose in place, Seijuro makes the trek over to the door of his home office, undoing the lock that had barred him inside. Once it’s sprung loose, his hand falters, freezing in mid air. 

After all now that he’s made this choice, it would be pathetic to back down from it. Not that he hasn’t sunken low already with some of his earlier actions. It’s just that, sometimes, when he’s having a day like this one, he gets too overwhelmed by his restless thoughts, and wants to be alone to wrestle with them. Rarely does that work, but he’s always had to be his own consolation. Why that would change after so many years, he doesn’t get.

But perhaps at long last, he’s willing to consider a different solution.

Plodding steadily toward the living room, his self-loathing threatens to turn him right back around, but Seijuro refuses to let it stop him. 

Kouki has insecurities too. They aren’t the same brand as his, but when it’s hitting him hard, he grows just as miserable as Seijuro does in the bleakest bouts of his. Yet where he’d never deign to throw himself a rope to pull himself out of it, he utterly hates the idea of seeing Kouki in pain. Knowing he had something to do with it loads him up with so much guilt that he can’t help but to continue on.

There’s a bundled up form on the sofa, a novel held out in front of the brunet as he flips through it perfunctorily. To be honest, Seijuro is surprised he’s still home with how upset he was earlier today. Other times when they’ve gone through this, Kouki went out for a few hours, shopping, to a movie, or to a friend’s house, anything to take his mind off it.

However he is incredibly grateful for the opportunity he has now.

Closing the gap, he meets his lover’s wary stare before taking a seat a respectable distance apart on the couch.

“You’re feeling better now?” Kouki guesses, lowering his book only enough to bare his eyes, but not his expression.

“I’m not.” Seijuro steels himself. “I was hoping you would be amenable to discussing it.”

Twinned hazels shift to gauge his sincerity, finally meeting his mismatched stare in a final check. Gradually, the book is relegated to the coffee table, and instead of sinking back into the cushions, Kouki sits up straight, studying him closely.

“Everything is going to be fine, you know that right?” he puts forth. “It doesn’t seem like it now, but you’ll get through it.”

“If only I could convince myself of that,” a wry smile was borne, Seijuro’s lips barely creasing to bring it into existence, “…I’m glad you didn’t leave, even though you would have been in the right to do so.”

“I could never leave you alone at a time like this!” Furihata insists eagerly. “Even if you weren’t going to come out of there and talk to me, in case you needed something, I wanted to be here.…”

“How about the numerous other occasions I have acted like a fool?” 

“Well you were just being moody then and I was annoyed because it wasn’t about anything serious those times, so I had to go cool down.” Looking sheepish, Kouki wrings his hands together as he tells his side.

“I just wish you wouldn’t shut me out like you do,” he adds, braving the conflict in his heart to say it. Something in Seijuro’s resonates, and he listens carefully to his next words. 

“You’re there for me, but I’m not allowed to do that for you. But no one should have to suffer alone. I’m not great at advice, and maybe it’s selfish of me to ask to make myself feel better, but let me try to help sometimes.”

“If there’s anything I regret, it’s making you feel that way.” Furrowing his brows, Seijuro attempts to gather his next words under the brunet’s curious scrutiny. 

“I trust you completely, but I’m unused to the idea of asking someone’s assistance in personal matters. Before now I wouldn’t have talked to another person about my stresses at all, let alone what parts we have discussed. But you _are_ worthy of that trust, Kouki. More than anyone else I know.”

And he fully intends on proving that declaration, no matter how arduous the conversation may wind up being.


	5. AkaFuri (2x), NijiMibu

**I: AkaFuri - Prompt - "It's nearing midnight and we are both strangers who hadnt eaten in a while and now we are going to fight to death for the last packet of chocolate sweet bun at the bakery."**

* * *

 

“Your fingers are attached to my bag,” a carefully modulated voice sounds, and Furihata stares over to see a crimson-haired stranger gripping the other end of the pastry he’d made a grab for.

In the half-second of pondering he gets, his brain wars between letting go (and avoiding the reprecussions that icy stare is promising) and being stubborn - his empty stomach grumbles with approval at the second option - but predictably, he blurts out something ridiculous.

“I don’t see your name on it anywhere!” he counters heatedly, realizing too late that he’s an adult, not a gradeschooler; they’re probably going to be here a while.

* * *

**II: AkaFuri - Prompt - "I think I am in love with you, and I’m terrified."**

* * *

 

“I think I am in love with you, and I’m terrified, Kouki.”

Finally breathing life into the truth that had plagued him for weeks if not longer didn’t quite have the effect Seijuro hoped it would. Rather than feeling freer, than discarding the weight that had consistently lorded over his heart when he couldn’t bring himself to say those words, he felt more entrenched than ever. 

In a flash, he realized that it was because he was _still_ waiting, this time for a response. A refusal, an easy let down, anything. Anything to put this matter to bed once and for all.

Furihata stared back at him in shock; he couldn’t blame him - it was abominably forward of him to burden the other with his feelings. Their friendship may be solid this far along, but there had never been any pre-condition built in for it to grow into anything other than that. It didn’t have to. Perhaps he was too optimistic, but he’d like to believe he could come to terms with that if indeed Kouki’s feelings weren’t as multifaceted as his own.

“Akashi-kun, um,” his companion interjected, features unreadable with how jumbled they became, “you’re n-not allowed to be terrified because… because I-I already am. And we can’t both be.”

“Not allowed?” he returned warily. “What on earth do you mean?”

“You can’t be afraid if I am. If we’re both scared then it will only be a problem!” Furihata insisted. “I mean, what I’m saying is that… I kinda also-”

Following the rapidly-shifting train of the other’s words, Akashi’s mind leapt several steps ahead, and what he found there gave him pause.

“Kouki.”

Lurching forward, he stooped to claim one of the brunet’s hands, raising it smoothly until his lips were cozied against his trembling knuckles. Even then, he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave it alone. Smiling somewhat painfully with how wide his lips cambered, he pressed a second, and third kiss to the back of Kouki’s hand, the joy bubbling up inside him urging him on.

When he happened to glance up, it was to the sight of Furihata scrunching his eyes stubbornly shut. At the embarassed display, Seijuro could only chuckle.

“Very well. Are there any other rules I should be aware of? Besides the one where I am not allowed to be the one who is nervous?” he teased lightly, switching to lace his fingers in the spaces between his beloved’s.

The stream of sputtering that came afterwards told him all he really needed to know from the beginning.

* * *

**III: NijiMibu - Prompt - "Kiss me."**

* * *

 

When something bothered him, even slightly, he couldn’t leave it alone. Like a dog with a bone, whatever the problem was would nag Shuuzou until he’d figured out a plan to combat it. This was no different.

He often found his eyes following Mibuchi’s progress around the room, but normally it was on a better day, when his strides were confident and smiles dazzling. Today, they were anything but, and that was his primary cause for concern. He’d never seen him wearing such a lackluster expression in the entire time they’d known each other.

Grinding his teeth, Nijimura’s gaze wandered, noting the flurry of scarlet and rose decorations, the paper-mache hearts and streamers bedecking their classroom. Frankly it was too gaudy for his taste, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Ah, thank you, Kashima-san, I will treasure these along with the others~” Reo promised, tucking the offered chocolates into his bookbag. Gifting the girl a vague smile in return, his turquoise orbs then trained downward after she departed, looking miles away.

Nope, as expected, he couldn’t stand watching this farce anymore.

Jerking to his feet, Shuuzou stalked over to his companion’s desk, and boldly gripped him by the wrist.

“Come with me,” he instructed tersely. Mibuchi glanced at him in confusion, but no rebellious spark lingered beneath that. He wasn’t going to object.

Five or more minutes had them outside in the courtyard garden, the snap of cold in the air causing them both to huddle closely beneath their uniform sweaters. The only upside was that it was quiet, abandoned. No prying eyes to ruin the strategy he’d hastily cobbled together.

“Am I going to get an explanation why you dragged me out here, Shuu-chan?”

Did he mention he hadn’t exactly thought of what he’d say once he accomplished the first part of the plan? Because that was kind of killing him now. Improvisation was all he could manage.

Shifting on his feet, he decided on being direct.

“You don’t have to take chocolate from anyone else today.”

“Excuse me?” Reo eyed him skeptically, not that he could blame him.

“Tell them you already have a valentine and turn them down. I won’t expect any chocolate, so don’t even worry about that part,” Shuuzou rattled off, forcing himself to sound as composed as he possibly could. 

Inside though, he was cringing at his presumption. Much as Mibuchi liked to play the role of damsel, there wasn’t any reason he had to accept him being his knight in shining armor. Especially since he hadn’t asked for volunteers. Though if Nijimura had to say, the shallowly-hid sadness in his behavior today had practically cried out for it.

Valentines’s day, as it was generally agreed upon in this country, was a day for girls to give chocolate to guys. There wasn’t any room for alternative interpretations. Not even for a guy giving chocolate to his other male friends, or worse, males who were something other than a friend. With the joy that crafting confections brought Mibuchi, he knew it had to kill him to be excluded from a day that in a better world, would have been one he could have thrived at participating in.

It was too late to give him an excuse to do so, but beyond belief, Nijimura hoped he could at least put a smile back on his unfairly beautiful face.

“Well.” The word was curt, but the look he shot his direction spoke volumes. “Are you going to be my secret Valentine, or my public one?”

“U-Uh,” Shuuzou stuttered, his voice momentarily stalled by the gleam in the other boy’s stare. He coughed to clear his throat before expanding his answer. “Public, I guess. No point otherwise, right?”

“…Thank you,” Reo returned softly, stepping forward to gather him into a hug. “You really are a sweet guy, Shuu-chan.” Leaning down, his mouth wound up near Shuuzou’s ear, and he further murmured, “I was beginning to wonder how serious you are about me.”

Something inside Nijimura short-circuited then, blood rushing to a whole laundry list of places it shouldn’t be at that precise moment. He froze, awkwardly clenching his fists at his sides like the novice he undoubtedly was.

“Uh, you… were?” he eked out gruffly.

“For a while now, yes. You didn’t think you were being covert in staring at me, did you? I’m flattered, but you could at least be honest instead of keeping your feelings to yourself!” Reo lectured him, pressing a finger into the center of his chest authoritatively. “In fact, there’s really only one apology I’ll accept.”

Later he would blame it on the intricate heat and softness of the other pressing up against him on clouding his judgement, but in that moment Nijimura stumbled all too easily into the trap laid for him.

“What’s that?”

Mibuchi’s smile was luminous.

“Kiss me. I trust you can think of a good…  _public_  location?”

Shuuzou was starting to understand why people said that no good deed went unpunished. He was about to to be an exceptionally prime example of that axiom.

Trouble was, he couldn’t be bothered to feel anything other than giddy. If this was the price to pay for rekindling his spirit, then he would happily pay it many times over.


	6. AkaFuri (3x)

**I: "If you keep looking at me like that, we won't make it to a bed."**

**. . . . .**

 

It was sweltering in the hotel’s cramped hallway, but the temperature of Akashi’s tongue on his bare neck was far hotter. Sucking on his most sensitive corners and occasionally salving where his teeth dug in; the motion of that one part of him was driving Kouki crazy.

Still, it had nothing on the fierce stare matching his.

“I-If you keep looking at me like that… I don’t think we’re going to make it i-inside,” he panted, shivering at the tremor that quaked through him when his lover rocked their hips together again.

“I’m not convinced you’ll make it another  _step_ , Kouki,” Seijuro trilled out huskily, lips arcing into a sly cast.

Judging by the pressure coiling within him and the way his legs were beginning to quiver, he was right. It wasn’t like any of this was going to be easier laying down, anyway.

 

**. . . . .**

**II: "You're the only one I trust to do this."**

**. . . . .**

 

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

Chuckling, Furihata went back to sorting through his tools, arranging the vials and labels to one edge of the table for easy access. His hands then busied themselves with tugging his patient’s sleeve and cleaning off the area where his vein shone blue beneath the pale skin.

“You really don’t like having your blood drawn, do you, Seijuro-kun?” he joked, pulling back to let the region dry. 

“No, I do not. The others are rather rude when I have to have this done. In a hurry, and my arm hurts afterward.” The child sighed in a long-suffering type of way, as if he’d been carrying the weight of the world throughout the few years he’d been alive. “They are brutes.”

“Ah, I think you had Kagami-sensei last time?”

“He doesn’t deserve that title. Anyway, yes, it was that person. Not that I will ever have the displeasure again. I made sure of that.”

Furihata’s smile drooped a little bit.

“It’s not very nice to take sensei’s scissors and point them at him, Seijuro-kun,” he chided the boy, noting the frown that quickly echoed his warning.

“It’s not very nice to manhandle someone’s arm, either,” Akashi stated petulantly, smoothing down one of the crimson bangs falling across his eyes. “I told him that was a bad area to try and stick. He refused to listen.” His gaze snapped onto the older male’s, its intensity impressive for someone two feet shorter and fifteen years younger. “But you always listen to me, Kouki-sensei.”

“Um,” Furihata studied his badge in the mirror on the wall before turning back to his patient, “How did you uh, know that’s my name, Seijuro-kun?”

“I asked Reo, and he found out for me. I do think it is appropriate at this stage in our relationship for us to refer to each other more familiarly, don’t you?”

His eye twitched. Really, he should have known it would be his tutor. Mibuchi doted on his charge to the point of ridiculousness in Furihata’s eyes, and even with incidents such as the one with Kagami, he tended to overlook them easily. 

Part of it probably had to do with Seijuro-kun’s family situation. Lacking a mother, and a father who was invested in him, Mibuchi was the only parental figure the boy had. That paired with his fragile health probably made the raven feel like he needed to coddle him more than an average child. 

Furihata did have to admit, seeing the kid in his office as frequently as he did made him feel a little sorry for him. Maybe he wasn’t in danger of losing his life, but surely he had to be losing his childhood this way with all the poking and prodding that went on.

“I guess I don’t mind,” he hedged. “Though you do realize I might not always be working, right, Seijuro-kun? I am off some days you might come in, and someone else will have to do this for you.”

Akashi scowled once more before seeming to resign himself. 

“I suppose if it can’t be you, Kouki, then I wouldn’t entirely mind being seen by Kuroko-sensei. Though I dislike the way he sneaks up on me, my arm doesn’t hurt afterward.”

The brunet nodded as if agreeing with his co-worker’s assessment, right up until he realized the honorific had been dropped from his name. Where did this child get off speaking the way he did?! The eloquent vocabulary was one thing, and mostly a positive, but sometimes Furihata felt he was facing off against some sort of devious adult rather than an eight year old boy.

‘ _Just do your job,_ ’ he advised himself. ‘ _He’s just a kid._ ’

“Are you ready now?” 

“For the draw, I guess,” the child shrugged. “But, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for tea sometime, Kouki? Perhaps Reo can arrange us a playdate.”

Inwardly, Furihata was screeching. There was no way this kid didn’t know what he was doing.

 

**. . . . .**

**III: "I can't believe you talked me into this."**

**. . . . .**

 

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“It is far too late to be making excuses, Kouki,” his lover reminded him smugly, linking their fingers together a little closer. 

In that moment, Furihata wanted nothing more than to divert a scowl his way, were they not currently under public scrutiny. That was the crux of the problem here. Akashi had finagled the situation to where he now found himself beside the podium where his other half stood, initiating the oratory performance of his life.

Still, it was the acceptance speech they had both dreamed of for nearly a year now, so that milestone being fulfilled gratified him. It had undergone many versions over that period, the words being tidied, polished, and replaced countless times. He’d never doubted Seijuro’s eventual victory. This was the very first speech he had written for him, after all. And at last, he finally got to hear it on stage, if impossibly close by.

Swallowing thickly to clear the tightness in his throat, Kouki allowed his gaze to drift from the crowd’s reactions to the other man’s face. With each perfectly-delivered line, the glimmer in his eyes grew brighter, his hand intemittently squeezing Kouki’s as if in childish excitement. He was luminous. And beautiful in a way that Furihata lacked the words to capture.

He might be able to put the right ones on paper for Seijuro to use in his speeches, but when it came to describe the man himself, he was hopeless.

In one night, he was stepping up to the plate of his newly-won office, and revealing their relationship to the world. Who else in this field possessed half the shameless courage he had?

Briefly, crimson orbs glanced his way, lips curving into a secretive smile. And in a flash, Kouki somehow knew exactly what he was thinking, what he would tell him if he could. Something he had told him long before today.

“Courage. Where do you think that comes from, Kouki? For me, it comes from those who support me, those whom I hold dear. How could I be so brave if you weren’t brave enough to believe in me first? You have all the courage you or I will ever require.” 

Turning back to the forefront, he brushed his thumb fondly along the inside of Akashi’s palm.

Once in a while, he had to wonder if he’d ever truly needed a speech writer at all. He had a golden tongue to pair with his lion’s heart, and yet Kouki wouldn’t relinquish his position in Seijuro’s life to anyone. As long as he was wanted, he wouldn’t concern himself with being necessary.


	7. HayaMiya - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-indulgent smut I wrote purely for myself, not for quality. Don’t take it very seriously at all, and you may enjoy it.

For once, Miyaji couldn't complain.

Sliding back the arm shielding his eyes, he stared down the expanse of his body to meet Hayama's hungry gaze. It seemed like only minutes ago that those alarmingly green eyes were scrunched shut in concentration as they’d languidly made out in the hall. The late afternoon rain had proved an unlikely aphrodisiac, soaking through their layers and leaving them craving a specific brand of warmth.

Shameless as it was, he couldn’t regret pawing at his lover’s clothes until they gave way, tossing them unceremoniously atop the sofa, or allowing Kotarou to guide him to the more promising arena of their bedroom.

Gauging the predatory slant of the younger’s expression, Miyaji preemptively shuddered.

A pillow was then eased under his hips, Kotarou’s fingers lazily stroking his thigh as he got him positioned. Deciding to be helpful, he shifted downward, closer to the edge, but was curtailed by a hand slamming down against his leg, holding him still.

“I got it,” Hayama insisted, “you’re gonna like this, Miyaji-san.”

The dominant lilt to his tone was oddly convincing, lulling him into an agreeable silence. If it weren’t for the throbbing of his cock punctuating the seconds, he could have relaxed into pure oblivion. Instead it was a relief as he saw Kotarou’s head descend, lips cozying around the head and slurping eagerly. His length twitched, skin drawing tauter as it swelled to fill his mouth.

Hayama devoured him like he was something to savor, tongue darting to follow the lines of veins up his shaft until he was back at the top, digging into the apex and laving away the pre-cum beading there. Miyaji’s hands rearranged, finding a section of the comforter to cling to as heat fanned throughout his body.

Releasing a shaky gasp, he thrusted tepidly, nudging toward the suction of the back of his throat. Kotarou humored him, adjusting to follow the circulation of his hips, reaching underneath to cup his ass and abet the fledgling rhythm he’d initiated. Here and there he squeezed, pressuring the sensitive flesh even as he attacked him from the front.

“Ah, ah…”

The sounds slipped out, his pride vanishing into thin air as he gave into the mind-numbing sweetness of their intimacy. Then Kotarou’s hand was wandering again, massaging his tightly-wrought sac, longer middle finger dipping back to explore the patch of skin that could make him moan almost on impact.

“Fuck!” he yelped, eyes creasing with the effort to stay open. Sure enough, it was a trick that never failed to work.

His lower half was aching, gliding out of pure instinct as he filled Hayama’s mouth again and again. In the moment he couldn’t help but be grateful for the freedom to move because if this was one of those times he was being teased, made to sit still, he would have screamed in frustration. The brink was close, and he could almost taste the end, the wet heat surrounding him and the rub of those dexterous fingers pushing him along quick.

Until it wasn’t.

And then his hands were beneath him again, squeezing and spreading him open to explore. Miyaji choked out a desperate call, fists grappling with the mattress as Kotarou licked him apart, tongue forcing past the tight cinch and granting him deeper access. Wet and forceful, the muscle writhed against his calid insides, sending frissons careening up his spine.

Heat engulfed him once more, and he gyrated south, instinctively trying to push closer but Kotarou was already flat against his skin, sunk in to the limit and lapping greedily at him. Miyaji moaned as his vision went hazy, his muscles twitching and cock gushing a jet of pre-cum as if in anticipation.

Hissing out a litany of curses, he locked his legs around Kotarou’s shoulders, keeping him close as he neared his peak. A few swipes of his fist over his leaking length and a deep probe of his tongue were all it took, Miyaji’s hips jolting up as he greedily rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Static was all he could hear for the next few moments, his senses more than halved in the aftermath. Somewhere, in the back of his comprehension, he could feel Hayama moving once his grip on him loosened, sitting up, then leaning over him to sneak a kiss to the corner of his jaw. It was a sound that broke him from his trance however, the rough echo of Kotarou rasping close to his ear, the slick of his fingers as he stroked his cock between them. 

Eyes widening alertly, Miyaji avidly watched the shift of his expressions as his lover worked himself over, their gazes intimately close now that Hayama’s body was covering his own. He shivered right with him when his vision pinched shut, lips gapping in a satisified grunt, and felt the rush of heat bathing his skin.

**. . . . .**

All good things inevitably ended though, and given his personal demon’s typical pace, he shouldn’t have been surprised at how abbreviated their pleasant detour became. Or that the cause of its derailment was, as it so often was, the juncture when Kotarou finally decided to use his words. 

“Mm, you should sit on my face next time, Miyaji-san. That’d be so hot,” Kotarou chimed, gracing him with a disparagingly cute grin as he snuggled down beside him. Miyaji instantly balked, unsure where to even begin explaining what was wrong with that ludicrous statement.

Of course, he wound up being too slow to stem the tide from washing over him once more.

Kotarou hummed pleasantly, staring him on as he volunteered his next useless suggestion. “Or put your dick in me next time too, that’d be good. Fuck me real hard, but like on the weekend, so I don’t have to move in the morning. You don’t like it on weeknights, right? Or is that just when we’re rough?”

“No, what I don’t like…” he grumbled, the revulsion building in his tone, “is your filthy fucking mouth, brat.”

Hayama’s eyes twinkled impishly.

“Kinda seems like you do, though.”


End file.
